


When A Watch Gets Stolen

by spitecentral



Series: April Autism Acceptance Fics [8]
Category: Magic Kaito
Genre: (kind of?), Ableism, Autism Acceptance Month 2020, Autistic Hakuba, Comfort Objects, Gen, Meltdown, Written by an Autistic Author, i have no clue how to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:14:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23443837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spitecentral/pseuds/spitecentral
Summary: Hakuba Saguru has met more police officers than he cared to count, and was liked by... well, none of them. So when his watch gets stolen, the people working with the KID task force become his suspects, and he launches an investigation.Or: Hakuba is autistic and gets his comfort object stolen. He takes this about as well as you'd expect.
Relationships: Hakuba Saguru & Kuroba Kaito | Kaitou Kid, Hakuba Saguru & Nakamori Ginzou
Series: April Autism Acceptance Fics [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/984744
Comments: 14
Kudos: 85
Collections: DCMK Fanfiction Discord Server Recommendations





	When A Watch Gets Stolen

**Author's Note:**

> So first of, I tried very hard to contain my hatred for cops, but uh, I don't think it worked. Also I have no clue how police departments work and I'm not interested in finding out, so if there are any inaccuracies here, don't @ me, I don't care.
> 
> **Warnings** for self-injurous stimming, a violent meltdown, and like... I don't really know how to explain it, but the overall societal ableism that comes with being autistic that often leads to bullying/people disliking you/being biased against you. No specific targeted ableism, though.
> 
> Anyway, I should probably wait a little longer before posting this, because I'm not gonna keep up a one fic a day schedule for the entire autism acceptance month, BUT I've never been known to make good life choices so here we go! I hope you enjoy it!

Hakuba was not well-liked among the KID Task Force, a fact that did not bother him in the slightest. Making friends had never been a priority of his, after all; he was here to catch a thief, and whether or not he got along with a bunch of half-witted officers was of no concern to him. 

That is, as long as they left him alone. 

His watch was missing.

The latest KID heist had ended with Hakuba on the receiving end of a waterfall of glitter-mixed paint - exceedingly immature, even by KID’s standards, a prank more than a magic trick. Though, he supposed he should’ve seen this coming, after he’d told Kuraba, quote: “If KID can’t even dodge a seven-year-old’s soccer ball, there is no possible reality wherein he could get past a police line to get the drop on me,” in an overt attempt to goad him into recklessness. He _had_ succeeded there, at least, even if he’d still ultimately lost the war. 

Either way, Nakamori had offered up the office shower to him, and he’d accepted, gladly washing off as much glitter and paint as possible. Sadly, it turned out the paint doubled as a dye - now, his hair was sparkly pink, and would likely remain as such for the foreseeable future. 

Perhaps he’d invite Kuroba and Aoko on a fishing trip. One low blow for another.

And then he excited the shower, tugging lightly at his hair in a last futile attempt to get some of the glitter out, only to find his watch gone.

The rest of his belongings were still there; his button-up, blazer, shoes, pants, underwear, coat, all neatly in place. But in the jacket’s left pocket, where he always put his pocket watch, he found only lint. 

He took a deep breath. With forced calm, he checked his other pockets, even though he knew he’d never make such a callous mistake as to misplace something. One thing Hakuba was not was sloppy. He liked everything to be in precisely the right place at the right time, neatly ordered and according to schedule. It provided structure and security. He didn’t like it when those things fell away.

And now his watch was stolen.

A quick sweep of the surrounding area provided little clues, aside from the slightly tilted door handle proving that someone had indeed picked the lock and walked in while he was showering. However, that did not narrow the suspect pool down in the slightest. He was in the middle of a police station, specifically working with the task force of a master thief renowned for dirty tricks; the odds of someone in his immediate vicinity knowing how to pick a lock were disproportionately high. 

He could probably rule out Inspector Nakamori. While the man was as dim-witted as they come, he had a clear sense of honor and duty not often seen among officers. It was unlikely he’d stoop to the level of petty bullying; if he had a problem with Hakuba, he’d simply yell it at him, as he’d proven time and time again.

That said, it was exceedingly unlikely that he’d side with Hakuba over someone from his own task force. He was not well-liked, and therefore, he’d receive no help.

Not that he needed it. He was Britain’s youngest detective, rivaled in Japan by only a few. If he couldn’t even deduce who’d stolen his watch, he might as well retire to the country side right now. 

He could feel the watch’s absence, as absurd and illogical as it was, taunting him from his pocket. Absently, he scratched his wrist, feeling his nails gauge the skin, leaving red gashes in their wake. 

The first order of business would have to be narrowing down the suspect pool. He could hardly do a thorough examination everyone’s desks without getting caught, so he’d have to limit his search to those most likely to have committed the crime. 

There was a bang on the door, and Hakuba startled. 

“Yo, kid! How long you gonna be in there?” Nakamori’s voice called through the door.

How late was it? Out of habit, he almost reached into his pocket, before remembering the current circumstances and aborting the motion. It was hard to breathe, and his nails dug deeper into his arm. 

He forced himself to take a deep breath despite the dam in his chest. Calm down. 

“I’ll be right out,” he called back, and went to get dressed. 

///

Narrowing down suspects proved to be about as difficult as expected, taken into account that a) no-one in the police station was fond of Hakuba, and b) all cops were varying degrees of bastards. But, finally, he managed to land on three key suspects: Hashimoto Takashi, new to the corps and therefore having something to prove; Fujiwara Akane, who had been accused of theft before, although the charges had been dropped; and Yamamoto Ken, who had been smirking at him for the past three days in an extremely smug fashion. 

With the primary suspects nailed down, he went to work. 

For some reason, people never even so much as considered the possibility that Hakuba might have some dubiously legal skills. People usually perceived him as an overly rigid rule-follower, and while Hakuba acknowledged he had a tendency to be somewhat inflexible, he was not exactly what you’d call a ‘rule-follower’. The law, while necessarily, was often flawed and illogical, and if the rules made it more difficult for him to do his job, he had no qualms ignoring them. 

Regardless, his reputation for being a stickler to the rules meant that no-one had bothered to make any precautions against their desk being lock-picked and their phones being hacked. An oversight, of course; if you’re going to commit a crime, at least have the decency of covering it up properly. Especially if your target is a genius detective. 

Neither Hashimoto’s nor Fujiwara’s desk contained anything out of the ordinary, and while both of their texts contained copious amounts of complaining about him, that was not a crime and did not in and off itself implicate them in theft. 

Yamamoto’s phone, however, contained some very interesting messages indeed. He was in a small groupchat with some other officers, and he’d been making vague remarks about an ‘upcoming show’ and ‘the best prank in ages’ ever since the day Hakuba’s watch had gotten stolen. He backed up those messages to his own phone; it might prove to be important later.

His desk, however, contained no incriminating evidence, let alone the pocket watch. It should not have come as a surprise, and yet, he had to stop himself from breaking the drawer in two. 

He had back-up watches, obviously, other models he could use in emergencies. Right now, a nice brown electric watch sat on his wrists. It was perfectly serviceable and of decent quality, and yet, it felt wrong. Too heavy on his wrist, always somehow managing to be in his line of sight, drawing attention to its obnoxious flickering numbers; every time he saw it, it became harder and harder to push away the panic that always threatened to overwhelm him.

He shoved the drawer closed, careful not to make too much noise. Then, he walked away, his hands shoved in his pocket so that no-one could see the way his nails clawed at the palm of his hands. 

///

There was another heist that night. Unusually close to the previous one; KID preferred to have more time to plan out his tricks, but it seemed that dyeing Hakuba’s hair hadn’t needed much preparation. So, another heist. 

KID was after the Red Haze this time, a 22 carat Burmese ruby. The owner, an old collector named Nakamura, had been most cooperative with the police, thankfully. Hakuba was crammed together with the rest of the task force in the display room, roughly ten minutes before the start of the heist. 

He was panicking. He didn’t know why, but he was panicking. It was a struggle to get his breath under control, his fingers itched with the need to move, and when he turned to check the time the sense of wrongness was so profound it strangled him. 

“Hey, Hakuba,” Yamamoto whispered. He bit his tongue to stop himself from yelling. He hadn’t noticed him get so close. Sloppy. Unusually sloppy.

He tried to focus on Yamamoto, but everything seemed hazy. He didn’t know how many minutes they had until the start of the heist, and he couldn’t bring himself to check. He needed to focus on Yamamoto. It might be important. 

Yamamoto’s next words filtered through like he was underwater. “Guess what I have?”

In his hands was Hakuba’s pocket watch. 

It took him one, two, three seconds to process what he was seeing, before he made a grab for it. 

He missed. Through the fog, he realized that was strange, and then he remembered Yamamoto was tall; tall enough to keep anything out of Hakuba’s reach. It didn’t stop him from trying to get at it, jumping in an attempt to reach the chain, and that didn’t seem like something he should be doing, there might be laughing from above the water, but it didn’t matter, there was only one thing that mattered and it -

Was broken on the ground, shattered to little pieces. 

Yamamoto was grinning, and ugly, smug smile, and the laughing had gotten louder. Hakuba stared at the remains of his watch, and someone was saying something, but the words were absolutely meaningless, he couldn’t understand them, couldn’t process anything except pain and panic and broken gears and a wide smirk -

Something was wrong. Distantly, he recognized this. His throat hurt, open and screaming, the sounds around him too loud, there were lights on now even though they weren’t before, his body was moving on its own, his hands making contact with something and doing it again and again and again, until he was pulled back by other hands, and still he was screaming and screaming and screaming -

A pair of hands pulled him along, and he tried to claw on them but it didn’t seem to be doing anything, the texture of their skin was off, somehow, but he couldn’t place it, and the lights were off now, and there was quiet. The hands let go, and he tried to follow them, because he needed to hit something, to scratch and hurt something, it was the only thing calming him right now, so he turned to himself, scratching and hitting and screaming. The pain felt real, at least. 

And slowly, he calmed down.

There was no new input, nothing to exacerbate his current state, just him and his movements and his pain, and so steadily, the panic sunk and his head grew clearer. 

It really was quiet. He wasn’t in the display room anymore; instead it was a smaller one, with a large bed in the corner and soft carpet under his hands. Probably Nakamura’s bedroom. Strange. They hadn’t been allowed in here, nor had they any reason to enter, for that matter. He shouldn’t be here. How had he gotten here?

Then he noticed a bright white blur among the darkness and - ah. The heist had started, then. Sadly, Hakuba was in no state to play mind games, and had no energy to arrest anyone, and so, he just sat back against the wall, closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. 

“You okay?” KID asked, something like worry in his voice. Fuck, this was embarrassing. 

Not trusting himself to talk, Hakuba waved a hand. Not the most efficient method of communication, but it would have to do for now. Thankfully, KID seemed to get the message, because he shut up and let Hakuba figure himself out in the calm. 

After a precise 300 seconds (he counted), he felt well enough to speak. 

“As much as I can be after a meltdown,” he finally replied, proud of himself for not flinching back at the sound of his own voice. “Don’t you have a gem to steal?”

“Already did.” KID flashed the Red Haze between his fingers, and ah, yes, perhaps Hakuba should have suspected that. Not that he was up to doing anything about it. Speaking was enough of a challenge right now. “What was that, detective? You do not strike me as the type to lose control.”

Hakuba rubbed his face with one hand and petted the carpet with the other. It really was soft, and he could use some grounding right now. “A meltdown, in the context of neurodiversity, is a way autistic people react to an overload of stress, sensory input, fear, or other negative emotions. They are uncontrollable and can be quite extreme. I am not the type of ‘lose control’, but my brain does not always cooperate with me.”

KID cocked his head. “You’re autistic.”

“Yes. And I would appreciate not finding that rumor spread through the school tomorrow, Kuroba.”

“I am not this Kuroba person you seem to know, but if I were, I’m sure I’d be offended by the insinuation I’d betray your trust for a cheap laugh.”

“Well, just in case, you should know I have a 20000 word essay on why you likely have ADHD, and I am not afraid to use it.”

“Wait, you have a - Nevermind, I’ll steal it later.” KID waved his hand. “Either way, I’m assuming removing you from the source of the stressor was the right course of action?”

“It was, although I would advice against grabbing people if at all possible.” And then, through gritted teeth and with a near insurmountable loss of pride: “Thank you.”

“Don’t think too hard about it, detective.” KID threw the Red Haze into the air, catching it with nimble fingers before tossing it at Hakuba. “You can have the ruby back.”

“How gracious.”

KID shrugged. “Saves me the trouble of returning it later. And besides, stealing is no fun with your critics incapacitated.”

He gave one of his patented, overly dramatic bows, and with a “Take care, detective,” he was gone, vanishing out a window Hakuba hadn’t even noticed yet. 

It was another half hour before he could bring himself to make the trek back to the task force. 

///

As expected, there was a talk, afterwards. 

Nakamori’s desk was messy, paperwork and candy wrappers strewn indiscriminately across the bureau, the only clean corner containing a picture of him and Aoko. Hakuba also noted another three pictures of her taped to his laptop. It seemed like the kind of thing Aoko might like to know, just to remind her that her father did, indeed, care. 

Nakamori himself sat back in his desk, looking tired and annoyed in equal measure, rubbing his temples. 

They’d been here for an hour now, Nakamori interrogating him on what happened under the guise of ‘wanting to hear his side of the story’. Hakuba hadn’t bothered to explain anything. It wouldn’t help, anyway.

“You know I can’t let you get away with this, right?” Nakamori asked. “If you refuse to give me any damn explanation, I’m going to have to report this to your father. Probably gonna have to do that anyway.”

Hakuba’s fingers curled around the chair’s arm, but he said nothing.

“Yamamoto might press charges.”

He snorted. As if his father would let that happen. Couldn’t have his precious reputation damaged by a criminal son. 

Nakamori glared. “You think this is funny? You broke his fucking jaw, Hakuba.”

“And?”

It was the first thing he’d said all hour, and he wasn’t sure why he’d opened his mouth. His fingers were rasping against the wood, and there was something hot in his chest. Anger, he recognized. He’d been angry for days, perhaps even longer, and he was still too out of it to hold back this long. Great.

Well, if he was on his way out anyway, might as well make it a show. 

“And?” Nakamori repeated, incredulous. “Do I need to tell you why you should feel guilty for _breaking a man’s jaw_? Really?”

“Guilty? _I_ should feel guilty?” And oh yeah, he was angry, hot and boiling and it spilled over into his words. “Yamamoto steals my watch with the express purpose of using it to humiliate and hurt me in front of his friends - if not the entire task force - during a Kaitou KID Heist, and _I_ should feel guilty for retaliating?”

Nakamori blinked and opened his mouth to say something, but Hakuba continued on, bulldozing over his next words. “Am I supposed to feel sorry that his plan had some unforeseen negative consequences? He knew perfectly well that I would not react calmly to him smashing my pocket watch, and this was, in fact, the whole entire reason he decided to do it in the first place, and now I’m supposed to feel sorry that I reacted somewhat stronger than he planned? With all due respect, Inspector Nakamori, fuck off. He reaped exactly what he sowed.”

Nakamori leaned forward, blowing out a deep breath through his nose. “Even if what you say is true, which I highly doubt, considering the fact that I’ve known Yamamoto for years and he has never done anything like that, that isn’t a damn reason to get into a fistfight. You should have come to me -”

“And what? What would you have done?” Hakuba’s hand slammed on the desk, and Nakamori flinched back, startled. “I come to you and say ‘Inspector Nakamori, my watch has been stolen’, and what would you do?”

“I would have launched an investigation -”

“No, you wouldn’t have,” Hakuba cut him off. “You would have rolled your eyes and told me that I probably just lost it, that it’s just a watch, that I don’t need to be so melodramatic or make any false accusations. So then I would have decided to do my own investigation, which is exactly what I did anyway, and I would have found evidence that Yamamoto was likely responsible.”

Nakamori opened his mouth, but Hakuba ignored him. “So then I try again, and I come to you with the evidence, but it’s not watertight, so once again, you just roll your eyes. You tell me that you will talk to Yamamoto, after which you call me back into the office to say that Yamamoto denied the accusations and you feel inclined to believe him due to the fact that you’ve ‘known him for years’, and you tell me once again not to make any false accusations.”

He took a deep breath. “And then tonight happens, and it goes the exact same way it did now, and you will tell me that I reacted too strongly and that I will be removed from the case, as you are doing right now.”

Hakuba sat back, and went through the effort of looking Nakamori straight in the eyes. “Tell me, Inspector, exactly what would have changed if I had come to you? Why should I have bothered?”

A silence fell as he stared down Nakamori, the ticking of the clock louder than it ought to be. 

Nakamori broke first. “You have evidence?”

“Text messages illegally obtained, not admissible in court,” Hakuba confirmed. “I’ll send them to you, in case you’re interested in maintaining your facade of objectivity.”

Hakuba stood up. “In the meantime, I will be expecting my official dismissal by Friday. I can see myself out.”

And just like that, he walked away.

///

He spent the next day finding ways he could circumvent the task force’s grip on the KID case. Sneaking into heists might be difficult, but it would not be impossible. Probably. Hopefully.

(Hakuba wasn’t that good at disguises, or at least, not at KID’s level, which is what the security around the heists was counting on. He may actually have to ask Kuroba for tips, but that would be an absolute last resort. He did still have a sliver of pride left.)

Either way, he could definitely hack into their database and read their reports, but it wouldn’t be the same. This case had just gotten significantly harder. 

At 4AM, he finally fell asleep at his bureau. When he woke up, he found the carefully hidden physical copy of his KID/Kuroba ADHD essay stolen (to be expected and no disaster; he still had numerous digital copies he could print at any moment) and a brand new pocket watch on his pillow. It was silver, with little movable doves decorating the case.

Hakuba spent precisely eleven minutes and fourteen seconds playing with them, and he smiled. 

///

By Friday, he did not receive his dismissal, as he had expected. Instead, he received another invitation to talk to Nakamori. 

Strange. Perhaps Nakamori wished to deliver the news in person.

Either way, come Monday, he showed up at the task force once more. As he walked to Nakamori’s office, people kept their distance, whispering from the sidelines. Hakuba didn’t care. It wasn’t like he’d have to work with these people again.

He sat in the exact same chair he’d sat last week, and noted, with some perverse pride, that his nails had made little indents in it. 

Nakamori was not usually that difficult to read; he wore his heart on his sleeve and was not afraid to speak his mind. That made him easier to deal with than most other people, and although his loud nature grated on Hakuba, it was something he’d always, on some level appreciated. 

Today, however, Hakuba couldn’t get a good read on him. He was sitting straight in his chair, unusually professional, and his face was blank. Or, maybe the expression on it was just too subtle for Hakuba to read. That was a distinct possibility too. 

Either way, it was unsettling. Hakuba reached into his coat pocket and traced the doves on his new watch.

“So,” Nakamori started. “I called your father.”

Naturally.

“He explained that you’ve gotten into fights with officers before, and basically threatened to end my career if I decided to remove you from the case.”

Hakuba closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Expected, but no less annoying.

“Not that I give a shit about any of that. Not the first time my job has been in peril, and it won’t be the last. I wish them good fucking luck trying to find a replacement for me.”

Hakuba barely managed to hold back a laugh. Nakamori had proven time and time again to be by far the most suited to leading the task force, and KID had proven time and time again he wouldn’t tolerate anyone else. Nakamori was right to be unafraid. His father had no power here. 

“But the fact that this apparently wasn’t the first time you snapped and decked a guy did make me curious, so I did a bit of digging.” Hakuba’s surprise must have shown on his face, because Nakamori shot him an irritated glare. “Don’t look so shocked, you’re not the only detective in the room. There’s a reason I got this job in the first place.”

Hakuba inclined his head, contrite, and Nakamori continued. “Anyway. I did some digging, and found out that this is pretty routine for you. You work with the police, you deck a guy, you get about as fired as a high school detective can get, rinse and repeat. Kind of a weird pattern, considering the massive stick up your ass. Since it seemed out of character for you to just attack someone for no reason, I assume that all instances of that were caused by similar situations as this one?”

“Does it matter?” he scoffed. 

“It does, actually.” Nakamori leaned forward on his desk. “You seemed pretty certain I wouldn’t have done a damn thing for you, and to be honest, you were right. I don’t like you. I do like Yamamoto - or I did, at least. It would’ve been way easier for me to just wave you off, so I probably would’ve.”

Hakuba sat back, blinking. Well. At least he admitted it.

“And I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what happened with the others, too.”

Nakamori looked at him, and a beat too late, Hakuba realized he was expected to answer. He nodded. “Yes, although I fail to see how this is relevant.”

Nakamori rubbed the bridge of his nose. “It’s relevant because it explains why you didn’t come to me in the first place, and it’s relevant because it shows that this situation is as much my fault as it is yours.”

Hakuba’s hand slid off the watch, the doves’ cool metal replaced by cotton under his fingers. “What?”

Nakamori glared. “I said, it’s my fault as much as it’s yours. As leader of the task force, it’s my job to take these kinds of matters seriously, and I wouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have made you feel like you can’t turn to me for help, and I definitely shouldn’t have been playing favourites, and I’m sorry for that. I should have done better, and I’ll try to do so in the future.”

Hakuba opened his mouth. Closed it again. Repeated the process. He should be saying something, but he was at a loss for words. 

“Stop imitating a fish, dipshit,” Nakamori snapped. “Either way, you still broke a guy’s jaw, and I can’t let that slide. Although I can’t suspend you, considering the fact that you’re not actually an officer, I’m removing you from the case for the next three months and refusing you access to the heists. Also, if you pull a stunt like this again, I’ll be kicking you out properly. Just come to me next time, and I promise I’ll take your concerns seriously. No more vigilante justice, understood?”

“What about Yamamoto?” he managed to ask. 

“Your evidence was obtained illegally, and not something that would hold up in court anyway, so therefore, it’s not something I can use to level any serious charges against him. However, his messages did imply rather heavily that your accusations were valid. Although your retaliation was far too extreme, childish bullying in the manner displayed by Yamamoto is not something that I’ll tolerate in my task force. As such, I requested for him to be transferred to another department. Hopefully that, and his time in the hospital, will teach him to behave in the future.”

Nakamori leaned back in his chair. “Now, I’ll ask you again: no more vigilante justice, understood?”

Although this barely felt real, Hakuba nodded. “Understood.”

“Good.” Nakamori waved a hand. “Now get out of here, and don’t let me see you for another three months.”

Outside, Baaya was waiting with the car. He watched he houses flash by as she drove him home, still somewhat dazed. He’d have to jump through some hoops for the next three months, but he wasn’t removed from the case permanently. Someone other than him had faced consequences. Nakamori had taken responsibility and apologized. 

There was a new watch in his pocket, and surprisingly, it did not feel like such a bad thing.


End file.
